February 2009
41 posts
Sinners turn to saints
In the glare of the mid day
Hands held tight
Hearts halt to grind
Oh, this is life
and this is mine.
Things to do everyday:
- Write music / lyrics (and I mean ones like the lameariffic Drew Barrymore + Hugh Grant romantic comedy)
- Read memoirs (I’m currently reading “I Was Told There Would Be Cake”)
- Watch a university lecture on Academic Earth (my new favorite website)
- Use more parentheses (‘cause they’re fun…Duh!)
This will be my year. Took a long time to come.
Love this! When times get tough, sometimes learning takes a back seat, but not anymore. If you’ve ever wanted that ivy league education without the years of debt, check out Academic Earth — thousands of video lectures from top scholars. Professors from top schools like Yale, MIT, Stanford and more teach you subjects such as Dualism vs. Physicalism. Open source learning for the win!
i started writing an album.
it’s ridiculous and cocky and southern and vaudevillian and all me.
so far, this is how my songwriting process goes: wake up, roll over, and press record. today’s character was a scorned woman with a spitfire mouth, shotgun and a penchant for beating up her old lovers. it’s working so far. i find that if i spend more than 30 minutes on a song, i will never get anywhere with it.
fun times are ahead!
a drip of rain drops
down the dirty gutters drain
and one day you might drip yourself
and tire of the monsoon and complain…
but my dear friend angeline
the ground is not soaking
and the dirt is not mud yet
so dig in… keep planting seeds. life is long…
and you of all people know.
I’ve always been a fan of John Mayer’s blog. His writing is honest, true and simple, but we all need to be reminded every now and then.
brokenwing:pieceofmymind:itsamazing:dogganghappened:
This is about us all. This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it’s actually toxic. This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she’s awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She’ll take a hundred photos until coming up with one she’s happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she’s done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like ” I don’t give a f*ck what you think about me.This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe.
This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like he’s Paul Newman, but who leaves a “reject”pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady can’t figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.
This is about a young guy who maintains a celebrity blog that subsists on tearing other people down but who has wrestled with a lifelong battle for acceptance as a gay man.
This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it’s incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we’re all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I don’t want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasn’t going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldn’t feel the negativity, but that’s because I couldn’t feel much of anything. And I think I’m done with that.I’m not the first person to admit we’re all self conscious, Kanye was. But what I want to do is to shed a little light on why we’re all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing.
And really? Really? It turns out we’re just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually. And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym ain’t gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy he’s following ain’t gonna be Bob Dylan. It’s just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right.
What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.
Root for others.
Give more and expect the same in return, but over time.
Act nervous when I’m nervous, puzzled when I don’t know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that.
And when it’s all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you.
I’m going quiet now.
John
everyoneisdyingi’mjustlovingandworkingandbarelyswimming
withmyheadabovethefreezingwater
butthepalmtreemsseemcloserandthemusicseemssweeter
andmymindisnomoreclearerbutit’sokayandi’mokay
(ialwaysam.)
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I guess I own both of these posters for a good reason. Hi again, Los Angeles. It’s as though I never left.
Bodies stacked
In temporary spaces
Pass the time
Through synthesized thoughts
What’s to conquer
When apathy and failure
Are a group activity?
i have lost all eloquence in my way with words at the moment. a mutant army of phlegm and meanie cells have overtaken my poor, defenseless body…my first real cold in over a year. damn you, chicago. i guess that’s what i deserve for pretending 35 degrees was warm on sunday.
i’ve taken to consuming my entire organic fruit stockpile and scouring the apartment for my old roommate’s new age hippy supplements. i figure those will get me prepped up for the insanity that will ensue in the upcoming days in los angeles. three birthdays, ten days, lots of loves, lots of work, lots of new adventures, and a dash of old ones.
it will be a learning, loving, growing period, that’s for sure.
i have lots up my sleeves. and by lots, i mean parties, applications, websites, bands, new photography, short films, collaborations, & whatnot. you’re all invited.
2009 is starting off as a very productive year. i’m glad it’s been kind so far. i hope life is treating you the way you deserve to be treated. xoxo.